Confectionery Klaus
by D-chan
Summary: A certain madness has overtaken Klaus. He finds himself compelling candy from humans, and after a too-close call with Caroline, hiding his shame in his room. But when Rebekah outs his secret, the only logical following is chaos. With few allies, chocolate-stained fingers, and dwindling dignity, what's an Original Hybrid to do? [Pre-TO Season 4] [dark humor]
1. Prologue

_I don't own The Vampire Diaries or any characters within._

_This is a crack-fic. I will be stretching the plausibility of this universe, but I think I can make it passably believable in the long run. Kind of. Maybe. I guess that'll be up to the reader. I've had this idea kicking around in my head for a LONG time, and it was bothering me so badly lately that I couldn't help putting it to paper. I've officially given myself a full plate of fanfic to write.  
><em>

_Constructive criticisms appreciated._

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><p>Klaus first realized something was treacherously wrong when the cravings began. He was the formidable Original Hybrid, whose names sent shudders throughout vampires and werewolves everywhere. Time had only strengthened his terrible infamy. He was a monster. Vlad the Impaler, if the conqueror had had the stomach to do the awful things Klaus had done century after century. Worse than Adolf Eichmann, with a thirst for blood greater than even Elizabeth Báthory. His heart was stone. His emotions frigid. When the life of his enemies and victims flowed through his veins, he was the greatest unstoppable force in history.<p>

Ergo, he didn't. Crave. _Sugar._

Yet Klaus found himself eyeing the young trick-or-treaters early Halloween evening. His stroll through one of the many Mystic Falls neighborhoods was anything but innocent. Over the years, folks had come to distrust a full-grown man alone amongst children. And, to be fair, some of the parents probably thought his ogling _was_ predatory. And it was. But not for the children. Not even for the adults, with blood flowing so freely and richly beneath their delicate flesh.

It was the impertinent whiffs of milk chocolate, dark chocolate, coconut stuffing, almonds, peanuts, caramel, nougat…. Why Klaus salivated at these scents, he had no idea. But he knew instantly it meant there was something going sideways with his head or body.

At least he was in control, Klaus assured himself. To prove it, he walked up to a lit, well-decorated home. With no children currently around, it would do for a brief snack. Perhaps he'd leave the dead body for the next guests to muse over whether or not it was yet another decoration before they noticed the sanguine red pouring from the poor sap's jugular.

When a man answered the door, before he could tell the scruffy yet devilishly handsome Original to get lost, Klaus caught his eyes and began his compulsion.

"Go find the most innocuous bag you have, and fill it with all the bloody candy you have remaining in your home."

_What?_

Before Klaus could reverse his order, the man nodded dully and shambled off to obey. Bewildered at his own behavior, he found the only thing he could do was wait until the man returned with a large black briefcase. Upon ensuring it was, in fact, full of what he'd ordered, Klaus decided to feed on him.

When he left, he carried the briefcase.

His return to the Mikaelson Manor was, fortunately, lonely and unwelcomed. He strode purposefully to his room, where he stashed the briefcase under the bed. He still had things to do, he decided, and the damn briefcase wasn't going with him.

Halfway out the door he paused. Sniffed.

That impertinent _smell_. Why was it kicking in such hunger, as though the cheap corporate candy contained the nutrients he needed?

Somehow he found himself back in the room, sitting upon his bed as he tore into piece after piece. All small bites, nothing that could completely satiate his hunger. He ate ravenously, licking melted chocolate off his fingers and wiping his mouth every so often so that a smear of melted sugar stained his left arm.

Once the candy was gone he felt okay again. Normal.

What the _hell_ was going on? Perturbed, but determined not to let on anything was wrong, Klaus quickly swiped the discarded wrappers into the briefcase and stashed it beneath his bed again. He then hopped into the shower, scrubbing off the damnable evidence of his insanity.

Nobody must know. He was the fearsome Klaus Mikaelson, and he had no weaknesses. Certainly not the horrid, vile mess that was human sweets.

As he scrubbed his skin, Klaus grew angrier. The water was hot as could be, and he deliberately used a loofa he'd stolen from Rebekah out of spite. Hard as he washed, his wounds healed rapidly, and the knowledge of the bizarre, shameful thing he had just done only served to fuel his temper.

People were _definitely_ going to die tonight.

That was how he found himself on the streets again. Freshly scoured with the stubborn intensity of a brillow pad taken to a filthy pan, he still somehow felt unclean and he needed to remedy that sensation.

He wasted no time finding another house, this time swiftly passing a mother and her son to an already open doorway. He glared at the woman in the threshold, who watched him with befuddled brown eyes and a gigantic bowl full of that sweet, succulent—_horrendous, atrocious, abominable_ Halloween candy.

Fortunately, her arms were outside the threshold, and he yanked her forward, intent on biting into her.

But then the bowl dropped, and candy spilled everywhere. He heard the delighted cry of the child behind him, and Klaus whirled around to snarl at him.

_"Get your bloody hands off my things."_

The mother moved to scold him for making her child cry, her voice a piercing screech that drove needles into his eardrums. Fed up, Klaus snapped the neck of the owner of the house before granting the pervasively irritating mother the same treat. All in the holiday spirit.

And the child stood before him, gaping in disbelief as horror slowly bled into his eyes. His small hands were frozen, clutching some of the fallen candy he had attempted to collect.

Klaus glowered at the child, baring his vampire fangs in warning.

Once the little lad had run screaming into the distance, Klaus scurried to gather his dishonorable tiny prizes in the bowl before he used his supernatural speed to run off. Away from the humans, into the forest, deep within the darkest crevices the rapidly falling night had to offer.

And for whatever reason, because if there was a deity above he or she clearly loathed him (and he couldn't argue; he was quite deplorable), that was where _she_ happened to be when _she_ stumbled upon him scarfing down the last of the sugary confections like a rabid hog at the trough.

"Klaus?" Caroline Forbes, the baby vampire with glorious sun-spun hair and critically beautiful blue eyes, approached him from behind.

And he froze.

Hands buried in unwrapped candy, stained with the proof of his humiliation, his stomach rumbling with unsatisfied hungers that he simply couldn't comprehend. He wanted to turn, to greet her with a smooth smile and his own brand of morbid wit. Had she only come across him with a human draped across his arms, limp and throat torn asunder. _That_ he could have saved himself from.

But not this.

Anything but he, the indomitable Klaus, the man who had taught Empress Wu how to enact cruelty, crouching in the woods like the hungry, ugly beast that better suited the contemptible Lockwood boy, slobbered head to finger in the leading cause of human obesity in the first world.

Caroline started to round him, and she was too close to getting a better look. "Klaus, what are you—"

And he hurried off, clutching the bowl, wrappers dancing in the air behind him like errant snowflakes in a winter sky.

Leaving behind an astounded Caroline, who could _swear_ she had just seen easily the most nonsensical scene of her entire dramatic vampire life.


	2. Chapter 1: Madness

_Disclaimers from the previous chapter continues forth from hereon out._

_I'm glad some people found the imagery as amusing as I did! This idea was originally meant for Damon, but I just got so tickled at the idea of Klaus freaking out that I had to switch characters._

_Enjoy the gradual descent into madness. Hopefully, Elijah and Rebekah can make their appearance next chapter!_

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><p>Were he a lesser creature, Klaus would have howled in frustrated agony. As it was, he'd already done far too much in the way of humiliating himself.<p>

It had been a scene he knew would haunt him forever—Caroline, stunning in her natural poise, wit, and spirit, even in her most hypocritical moments, finding him in what was easily the worst position of his life. Shoveling confections into his mouth like the fabled yet infamous Augustus Goop, the second-most gluttonous fictional character of trivial novels Klaus had ever read over his elongated life. (Not that he would ever admit to reading such tripe. He was Klaus, with more bodies under his belt than Genghis Kahn.) Perhaps, if it was truly fortunate, she hadn't seen the depths of his disgrace.

Yet he couldn't shake the dreadful sensation that she knew _something_. Klaus had distinctly heard wrappers fluttering from the bowl in his hasty retreat. In his mind's eye he pictured one lone blue bit of plastic drifting through the chill October breeze and coming to land _Nestlé_-logo-up on the top of her flaxen head.

Alone in his luxurious room once more, Klaus used his rage to smear melted chocolate on a piece of sketch paper, furiously scraping the smudges into a vengeful work of "art."

Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic, _pathetic_.

Once his anger dwindled to manageable levels, he tore the sheet free from its bindings and shredded it with his fingers. Only after he tossed the bits and washed his hands did he feel grounded again. The bizarre craving minimized and his roiling thoughts fell into more organized pieces, as in a well-played game of Tetris.

Klaus settled into his stuffed easy chair in the corner of his room—because, really, who with wealth and power _wouldn't_ have one all to themselves—and began to scheme.

There had to be a logical reason behind all of this. Perhaps witches were somehow involved. Not the Bennett child; she had supposedly been stripped of her powers. Maybe, after all these centuries, his body was begging for some form of humanized release. And, well, to be fair, it wasn't as though he was having sex on a regular basis these days, if hardly at all. Needs were simply going unfulfilled. And that theory made a plethora of sense once he stopped to ponder upon it.

Klaus's hands formed a steeple beneath his chin, his brow furrowed as he considered his siblings. Finn and Kol—no helping them, they were dead.

Elijah and Rebekah were another matter. They had lived just as long as he—Elijah technically more so by a feeble few years—and they indulged in pithy human desires _fanatically_. His brother had that ridiculous affinity for human empathy, his sympathy glands full to bursting like delicious, jiggling pudding in a balloon. Likewise, Rebekah had her childish fantasies of actually _being_ human. As though if (or the slight possibility of when) she were, her desperate whoreish tendencies would miraculously manifest into a desirable heart-shaped box of chocolate-covered everything with somehow more variety and flavor and fillings than was available to her as an Original vampire.

Klaus still scoffed at their ignorant dreams. But that niggling seed of doubt had been planted, threatening to bloom into his worst nightmare already in the midst of realization. Bad enough that his undead heart skipped a beat on the rare occasion he earned a genuine smile from the blonde baby vampire of Mystic Falls. Was he now doomed to similar ravenous hunger for other carnal desires?

He pounded his fist against the armrest, glowering at the wall. Damn humanity. How the wretched beings continually foiled him, Klaus simply could not fathom.

Then he stopped cold, his fist still clenched.

Unless….

What if this had something to do with that accursed doppelgänger?

Klaus seized upon this train of thought with both hands eager. Yes, this seemed entirely plausible. A delayed effect, possibly yet another time bomb set by his odious mother. Doppelgänger blood always appeared to be the key to all the magical loopholes in his life. It would make sense that draining Elena Gilbert's life from her (though the miserable girl hadn't stayed dead, much to his initial chagrin and later glee) would have had adverse effects sooner or later.

A dim part of him realized his supposition was bordering on madness. Then again, with his mother, he long ago should have guessed her every move would be laced with bittersweet arsenic.

Klaus leapt to his feet, determined to enact his revenge. First, he reasoned, he'd torture it out of the Gilbert girl. But given her propensity for that blasted _empathy_ Elijah purportedly so admired, he'd be better off kidnapping her brother and torturing it out of her _that_ way.

Yes. Yes, this was a good plan, he decided.

Unfortunately, he didn't make it far down the streets before that _unbelievably incorrigible_ smell of sugar and processed foods hit him. It was still Halloween night, albeit late, and now the teenagers and adults were milling about. He was horrified to note how many of them carried bags of store-bought candy. Were these not (mostly) grown men and women? Had they no dignity? What insanity had the world spiraled into in the past couple decades?

Somehow, he managed to force the cravings down enough that he made it through town. By the time he neared the Gilbert house, Klaus was seething with rage. He'd broken windows to get to the damn doppelgänger, and he'd bloody well do it again.

Upon her doorstep, Klaus pounded ferociously. The wood bent slightly with each ram of his fist, and when it opened he just stopped short of crushing the abominable woman's head in.

Elena stared up at him, looking a strange mixture of exasperated and terrified. Of course. He still struck fear, especially when his hand had nearly taken her head clean off her shoulders.

"What do you want, Klaus?" she asked flatly.

Her heart, pulsing in final twitches of desperation in his palm. But what came out was, "Your candy."

Elena blinked.

Klaus cursed inwardly but put on his best menacing look. And he knew it was his best—over the years he had come to realize just how to arrange the muscles on his face to evoke the best blanching of even albinos. It was quite impressive to see, really. The albinos, not his expression. But, well, yes, also his expression.

After a couple strained, tense heartbeats, Elena said slowly, "Caroline isn't here."

He wasn't wholly certain whether he wanted to be more infuriated or relieved. After all, what he'd just said held no dignity, but anybody thinking he meant Caroline gave him… slightly more dignity.

Through his teeth, Klaus said, "Well, where _is_ she?"

"Nowhere I'd tell you about," said Elena with just as much hostility. She moved to shut the door, and unfortunately the threshold kept him from stopping her. Cursing, Klaus stormed down the driveway, looking for something to break down the door with. Then he realized he could draw her _out_ instead.

With a wild grin, Klaus slammed his balled fist through a window. Alarms immediately went off, and the jagged glass cut his hand and arm before his inhuman body healed.

And then, with horror, he realized the passenger side seat had a pack of Twizzlers on the floor.

No. _No._ He would not be sucked in, not now, not during his revenge, wherein the fun hadn't even truly begun yet, and certainly not by the foulest candy anybody dared to call licorice.

Yet he ripped the door off its hinges, barely hearing Elena's cry behind him as he dove toward the floor mat and ripped into the packaging. He wolfed down the candy, loathing his every move as he did so, unable to control the ravenous hunger that gnashed his stomach and bellowed from the tip of his tongue. He. Needed. Sugar.

He shoved the empty wrapper into the glove box before she could approach him—which she didn't do. Despite her vampire speed and strength, she was no fool and knew he could take her in a fight whether fair or unfair. Instead she opted to run back into the phone, talking so quickly that he knew she'd made a phone call.

Well, Klaus was about to welcome the cavalry. The bonus was, the Twizzlers had left no stains upon his lips or fingers, so nobody yet knew of his degrading state.

Sure enough, the Gilbert doppelgänger only came outside again when the favored Salvatore brother appeared. In spite of his situation, Klaus couldn't help but smile and broaden the span of his arms as though prepared to give a welcoming embrace. "Stefan! Always a pleasure. And to what do I owe for your delightful appearance?"

His old friend's deadpan expression gave away nothing. That was what Klaus liked about him. Sometimes a fool, but always hiding his true intentions.

"Well," said Stefan slowly, eyeing the creased heap of metal that was once a car door not inches from his feet. "You're trashing my friend's property."

Klaus gave the pair an exaggerated wince. "Oh, how painful," he drawled. "Really, Elena? Downgrading to Damon? And here I once admired your taste in men."

Stefan rolled his eyes heavenward, but Elena was having none of it. "We all know you don't admire anyone but yourself."

Klaus shrugged noncommittally.

Flatly, Stefan asked, "What do you want, Klaus?"

Many things. The world torn asunder at his feet, with heads upon pikes up and down all highways of the United States. An army of loyal, unquestioning hybrids. A rendezvous with the Ripper, this time through the annals of the formerly criminal Australia (ah, if only they could have once upon a time when true criminals milled about). Acres of humans thrown together like cattle on a ranch, just waiting for him to sink his teeth into their throats at his leisure. Beside those acres, some dense woods meant for the thrill of hunting. For Stefan not to brood quite so much, for Rebekah not to sleep with any and every bloody male possessing a decent posture, for Elijah to quit waxing poetic over the Petrovas with his eyes any time his gaze fell upon either surviving doppelgänger.

But what came out was, "I don't want, I _need_—" And he forcibly bit his own tongue until he bled. This was _not_ the time to make his predicament worse. A dull ache began to settle in his stomach, warning him of the impending catastrophe if he did not make haste action.

"He asked for Caroline… I think," Elena murmured.

Stefan looked at her quizzically. "You _think?_"

"Well, he called her Candi."

"Maybe he meant actual candy, like sugar," said Stefan inscrutably. Elena shot him an exasperated stare and Klaus did his best to mimic her.

Patiently, Elena said, "Caroline says he's always calling her weird, unwanted pet names." Klaus felt the hairs on his neck bristle.

"I understand," said Stefan just as patiently, "but usually it's a cultural speech pattern."

"What, that he picked up in London a thousand years ago? They called women _sweetheart_ and _love_ back then?"

"No, but if he spent a lot of time in one area…."

"Doubtful. He probably would have wiped all of England off the map."

Irritably, Klaus said, "I did. With the Aztecs."

Stefan and Elena ignored him, continuing their quiet yet somehow unheated argument. Their easy dismissal of his obliterating an entire sect of people grated on his nerves. Had the idiots forgotten to fear him?

Time for a lesson in priority.

In a flash Klaus was behind Elena, yanking a good fistful of the startled girl's hair back before she could react. Stefan started to move but halted at the warning flashing from Klaus's eyes. The vampire's square jaw set, and he said tightly, "Let go of her."

Klaus bared his as-yet-still-human teeth in a move that wasn't quite a smile. "Are you certain, mate? You want to save the woman who left you for your inferior brother?"

A unique message passed between Stefan and Elena in the few tense moments that followed. Still, very placating, Stefan said, "Please, just put her down."

Elena was still tense in his arms.

Having a growling sigh, Klaus released her hair.

And then he slammed his open palm against her ear, likely bursting the eardrum. He jerked her head to the side to expose her translucent neck. Klaus took pleasure in Stefan's shout, in Elena's gurgled gasp as he bit down.

Vampire blood hardly satisfied his tongue, but ah, how sweet victory flavored the experience. Klaus drank, knowing his venom poured into the girl, and he at last felt in control again. He'd shown the haughty doppelgänger that he was not a force to be reckoned with. Soon all in Mystic Falls and beyond would remember who he was. All it would take was Elena's death after her descent into poisoned insanity, his werewolf venom pumping through her veins with every dull beat her undead heart made.

Upon releasing her, Klaus threw Stefan a nasty grin. He shoved the stunned woman in his direction. Elena clutched at her neck, terror and disbelief drowning her typically blasé milk-chocolate eyes. And Klaus was savagely _glad_, because the foolish woman should have known better—

Then the worst possible thing happened.

The gleeful grin fell from Klaus's lips like Skittles from a split bag. Elena's Godiva-inspired eyes widened to chocolate coins as she seemed to realize she wasn't in pain. Stefan stared at her with the befuddled look of a child surrounded by fifty flavors of ice cream and sorbet.

Her wound was healing.

His teeth held no venom.

The sheer horror that knowledge brought him was enough to make Klaus lose it. He shouted, a horrid sound that made Stefan and Elena start and back up. Unable to control his rage, Klaus dove into the car, ignoring Elena's protest and the fluttering of his guilty conscience of a Twizzler wrapper as he ripped out her passenger side seat and threw it at the house before him. It sailed through the air, crashing through the living room windows, where he could only _pray_ the blasted Gilbert boy had been standing.

_"You will pay for this, Petrova!"_ he shouted at the bewildered Elena.

Just to prove his point, he yanked open the hatchback, finding precisely what he thought he might: two bags of unused Halloween candy. Well past midnight, and therefore the holiday, he felt more than justified in snatching them before he whizzed off to the Mikaelson Manor.

Behind him, Elena and Stefan stared, slack-jawed, until Elena blurted, "Did he just steal my candy?"

"Told you," was Stefan's blank response.


	3. Chapter 2: Slipping

_Yeah, so... it's back! I really hope everyone continues to enjoy the ride, because it's only going to get weirder from here._

_I'll admit, I seem to struggle with Rebekah's character more than anyone when I've written anything TVD-related so far. So I can't say I'm as positive about her character as I have been with others. So if there are any glaring flaws, as always, feel free to let me know. That aside, it should be only another chapter or two before we find out what's happening to Klaus, and I'm excited! I hope everyone else is, too. Thank you for the support; writing this, even when I'm stuck, has been one of the silliest things I've ever done. I actually giggle in anticipation in some parts. Been so long since I've delved this far into humor. And a **massive** thank you for the reviews; they truly lift my spirits._

_Also, the chapter title came from a song in Dr. Horrible. Haven't seen it? Do it now! One of my favorite musicals._

_Have a sweet day!_

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><p>Klaus lay upon his bed, arms spread across the comforter as he stared up at the ceiling. He felt empty in more ways than one. There was a yawning chasm where his bloodlust used to be, an integral part of him that had fueled his behavior. It wasn't so much that he didn't want to murder and rampage as it was he needed to satisfy his shameful new urges.<p>

Moreover, it didn't matter how much of the blasted confections he devoured; he was still starving within an hour or two. A foreign emotion—he thought it might be misery—began to seep in at the thought of a never-ending hunger that brought him no joy.

His room was a disaster. Like the aftereffects of nuclear bombs on Nagasaki. Wrappers littered his bed, the floor, left trails to the bathroom and back. His fingers and face were smudged with the dreary remnants of his mortifying binge. Klaus found himself alternating between scowling at the ceiling and attempting to fall asleep. But peace was not to be found. How could it?

He was a monster. Finally, the worst form of life that could ever exist: that of a gluttonous, hoarding, slopping creature that would probably do better crawling upon his belly than rampaging around the world in attempt to dominate humans.

Mournfully, he was forced to acknowledge that these senseless cravings made him less than human. He may still have been the Original Hybrid in body, but not in action. Not anymore.

Not after that _wretched_ doppelgänger and Stefan had watched him flee with candy spilling from his arms.

If Caroline had any suspicions, they were certain to be confirmed now.

Klaus wasn't sure how, but at some point he must have fallen asleep. Sunlight was blooming into his room when the slam of a door jarred him from his prone position. Wrappers fluttered from the mattress and to the floor, and through his briefly bleary haze he recognized his sister.

As usual, Rebekah was livid.

"Bloody hell, Nik, I don't care if you're the Original _Neanderthal_, I swear if you keep taking my shower accoutrements, I'll tear you to pieces and use your blood as my blush!"

Momentarily forgetting his situation, Klaus sneered. "And why would I take your cheap, clearly unhelpful beauty products, dear sister?"

"Because you're an _arse!_"

And then silence reigned.

And Klaus realized why.

Rebekah's expression went from twisted rage to stunned bewilderment. "Wha—Nik, what are you covered in?"

"Get out," he snarled.

A strange light shone in her eyes. Rebekah gave him the sweetest of smiles, and just before she turned Klaus realized what she was planning.

"Rebekah, if you photograph anything, I'll dagger you and leave you in the coffin to rot!"

She hesitated, seeming to seriously consider his threat. Her eyes darkened, and Klaus almost began to relax. She was prepared to admit defeat.

But then she smirked and said, "Worth it," before zipping off.

Klaus sat rigidly, frantically weighing his options. He could go through with his threat now, follow her and stab her before she got a picture in, and destroy any infernal cameras she owned. He could then wrap her body in the coffin and chains and stone before burying her at sea, never to be seen again.

Or he could shower.

Loathing his options, Klaus scrambled for his bathroom, locking the door before he hopped in and turned on the water. That was a mistake—icy water sluiced him, and he yelped in momentary agony as the modern piping still took ages to heat his shower to tolerable levels. Soon he was scrubbing his skin, using Rebekah's loofa once again to remove all evidence. His face, his hands—oh, hell, everything. Klaus lathed every crevice just to be sure. He washed his hair three times.

By the time he turned off the spout, he realized he hadn't heard any shutter sounds. Cautious relief began to touch him.

But when he stepped out, squeaky clean and wrapped in a towel, he saw Rebekah nose-deep in her smartphone, tapping aggressively.

"_Rebekah!_"

She waved a hand at him. "Go find your dagger, Nik. Oh, and good luck with that, by the way. If you think I didn't tell Elijah, you're mad."

Well, yes, he was quite possibly going mad. But she didn't have to rub it in.

However, his rage was feeding him well enough that he could stave off his horrendous sugar needs. Klaus lunged at his sister. Unfortunately, she saw him coming. He was faster, but she was more spry, slipping just beneath the tips of his fingers with a whirl of curly blonde hair that was laughably dull compared to Caroline's.

As though reading his thoughts, she flashed him a vicious grin. "Oh, and your little girl-toy knows, if she didn't before."

"You can't prove anything," Klaus roared. "You clearly planted everything here!"

"Did I?" Rebekah dove beneath the bed, aiming her phone down at a strange angle. Furiously, Klaus realized she was _filming_ herself snatching the briefcase from the night before. She unzipped it and allowed the wrappers to fly free from the confines. "Why, Nik, you must truly put some stock in chocolate as an aphrodisiac. Too bad it hasn't seemed to work on Caroline yet." She jiggled the briefcase, gleefully filming the final silvery chocolate-stained bits as they floated in carefree bliss.

Red tinged his vision. The imagery of tying and quartering his sister as in the days of old—the best days, where torture was acceptable—helped soothe him enough that Klaus could almost approach the moment rationally.

"Rid your phone of each and every visual of my room, and I won't dagger you longer than a decade," he threatened.

Rebekah gave him a contemptuous glance. He had to admit, she was brilliant with those. "How is that more appealing than being daggered at all?"

"You wake up sooner." Obviously.

"I'd still be daggered," she scoffed. "So hardly a convincing offer."

Her arrogance bubbled rage in Klaus's throat until his voice became a brutal shout. "Convincing? Considering your options, you ought to be incentivizing me. Lest you forget what I am, _dear sister!_"

Klaus attempted to lunge for the phone, but Rebekah managed to avoid him. They danced in this fashion a few more times until at last they paused to reassess each other. Rebekah then made a slight, ever so perfect move—hovering her thumb just over a button on her cell phone. Her blue eyes narrowed in triumph at her brother.

"Careful, Nik," she taunted. "If I slip, this video just may go to the biggest mouth in all of Mystic Falls." As to which one, Klaus was admittedly curious. But he merely gnashed his teeth as she ruthlessly continued. "Just out of curiosity, who already knows? I'd so hate to be _daggered_ when it turns out nobody believes your whimpering denials."

"The only whimpering in this house is you when yet another man spurns your pathetic advances," Klaus shot back venomously. And oh, how little the word mattered, when his hybrid venom was entirely useless. Gone, like a rattlesnake stripped of its poison, the very essence by which to protect itself. Just because he used his more often in rage, was it truly not so similar?

Muscles in Rebekah's face twitched and tightened. Then a saccharine smile melted the anger in her features, deceptively turning them devilish. Realizing her intent, Klaus moved with the sole purpose of snapping her neck. But his sister's thumb had the advantage of short distance.

_Ping!_ cried the phone.

"Oops," she gasped with mock horror. "Oh, Nik, you poor thing. YouTube. You've heard of YouTube, right? Oh, never mind, you'll find out soon enough. Either way, your shame is all over it. My most _sincere_ apologies," she said with the least amount of sincerity Klaus had ever heard drip from her saccharine mouth.

"You said you were sending it to the biggest mouth of Mystic Falls!"

"And I did," she purred. "It's called the internet, Nik."

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you?" Klaus shouted, his pitch nearly a scream. "Even if this were a laughing matter, can you not see how serious this is?"

Rebekah cocked her head to the side. "Not really, no."

"Would that I had the dagger on me," Klaus snarled. To her credit, Rebekah seemed genuinely surprised, as though it had never occurred to her that he would keep it somewhere other than his room. Then, just as she opened her mouth, Klaus zipped forward and snapped her neck. She crumpled to the floor, leaving him to wrench the phone from her hands and scour through it. And what he found was horrifying. She had posted the video to some website, and already there were "views" and "likes." Klaus exited the window to check her texts, but that yielded even worse results.

The bloody woman had sent it to _Stefan Salvatore_. How had she gotten his blasted number anyhow? Infuriated, Klaus crushed the phone in his hand before flinging it against the wall.

The bickering and stomping must have alerted his brother. Before long Elijah appeared in his doorway, looking equal parts confused and exasperated.

"Niklaus, why is our dear sister on the floor at such an odd angle?" he asked flatly, clearly conveying he knew at least the most obvious of the answer. Then, before Klaus could say anything, Elijah frowned. "And why are there candy wrappers everywhere?"

"Get out!"

"No, really, I am quite concerned."

"To hell with your concern!" But then, realizing just how mad he must look to his brother, Klaus forced himself to capitulate. Through his teeth, he admitted, "There is something wrong with me. I haven't once desired blood since yesterday and I continually compel candy from strangers." He advanced on his brother, and he could only imagine how wild his eyes were. "_Candy!_ Elijah, this is humiliating!"

To Elijah's credit, if he wanted to laugh, he reigned it in superbly. "Once I remove Rebekah to a safe location, how may I assist?" he inquired politely.

Klaus seized upon the offer. "It's the doppelgänger. It has to be. Her blood had some… belated reaction or something," he reasoned. "I went to confront her yesterday, but when I bit her, there was no venom."

"Yeah, and he also stole her candy," Stefan said deadpan from the hallway.

Klaus froze.

No.

No, why the _absolute hell_ was Stefan here? Damn Rebekah, he swore internally. If he could just get to the dagger, he would allow her to sleep for a millennia for doing this to him.

To his outrage, Elijah actually stepped aside to allow Stefan in. Though his (former?) friend's face was largely unreadable, the sick mirth in his eyes was unmistakable. _How he must be relishing in my misery,_ thought Klaus as his anger began to peak.

"And from the looks of it, ate it all," said Stefan with feigned surprise. He turned widened eyes to Klaus. "I'm shocked. No, seriously."

Breathing hard through his nose, Klaus snarled, "I will rip out your spine and feed it to your brother. Backwards."

"Crude," Stefan conceded, a wry smile touching his lips that only served to agitate Klaus further.

"But creative," said Elijah solemnly.

Stefan nodded sagely. "I like it better than 'ripping off your head' or 'tearing out your liver,' " he said, taking on a British accent that even Klaus had to admit was quite good.

Before he could expound upon the creativity of his threats, and what more he had, an _additional_ pair of feet stormed down the hall. Klaus felt panic rise with his fury. Just how many people had been alerted to the Mikaelson manor? And why were they even bothering? His own personal devastation couldn't be _that_ satisfying. (Oh, who was he kidding. He knew it was. But the overt interest was still inexcusable.)

_No, no, no, not her, not—_

"Oh my _god_."

Caroline.

There she stood in her radiant beauty, her jaw gaping. Her eyes were the beautiful sugary glitter of blue gumdrops, her hair wind-tossed and golden like shimmering thin strands of lemon drops. In fact, her appearance was so rumpled that she must have run to the manor as fast as her lovely vampire legs could carry her.

For god's sake, why couldn't she come over when he had more time to dignify himself? Klaus remained frozen on the spot, torn between going on a sanguine rampage or jumping from the window and fleeing to the nearest Hostess factory.

Incredulously, Caroline looked around his room before raising her eyes to him. Numbly, she said, "You really were eating candy in the woods the other night, weren't you?"

"He also stole Elena's," Stefan chimed in helpfully.

"And compelled them from trick-or-treaters," Elijah added seriously.

Klaus snarled. "Brother, if you can't help me, either shut your mouth or get these bloody bastards away from me!" He kicked Rebekah's prone form to make his point. In his periphery, Caroline winced.

But then Elijah's words sank in and Caroline whirled on him, advancing. "You stole from _kids?_ What the hell is wrong with you?" she demanded. Then her hands flew to her mouth, her eyes wide as saucers. "Ohmigod, you killed that little boy's _mom_, didn't you?"

"That's low, even for you," Stefan said, the first hints of honest disgust seeping into his voice.

Klaus felt he had been committed to a nuthouse. "I'm shoveling candy in my mouth like a diabetic with a death wish and you're worried about some random woman?" he raged.

"Yes," the three chorused. As though it was obvious, and he was insane.

He backed up, waving his finger in the air and pointing at them. Dimly he recognized the hysteria sharpening his voice, but there was little he could do about it. Attempting to quell his panic only made his anxiety spike further. "You are all mad," he swore, glaring at Stefan in particular. He feared if he stared at Caroline too long, she would distract him and take him off his guard. No, he needed her gone, needed Stefan gone, needed _all_ of them as far away from him as feasible. It was impossible to salvage dignity this way.

"Right, we're the crazy ones," Caroline muttered.

Stefan turned to her. "Elena thought he was asking for you when he said he wanted candy."

"Yeah, well, looks like he was serious."

"Hey, I told her."

"And, as usual, she didn't listen." Caroline sighed. "Typical."

"As fascinating as that is," Elijah cut in smoothly, "I fear my brother may snap any moment. Since you two are here… ideas?"

Caroline shook her head, raising her hands. "This is _way_ out of my pay grade."

Hesitation only briefly paused Stefan. "Well, you could maybe, you know, distract him."

Color tinting her cheeks, Caroline snapped, "I am not sleeping with him!"

"Why not?"

The question came from both Klaus and a groggy Rebekah. He snarled upon realizing she had already awakened. Accursed Original healing.

Caroline's pitch rose an octave. "Just because he has a thing for _me_ doesn't mean it's reciprocated! And even if it was, no!"

Stefan actually scratched his head at that. "I gotta admit Caroline that, ah, doesn't make much sense."

"Shut it," she growled.

Rebekah hurried to her feet, backing up toward Elijah. She frowned and looked around, groaning when she saw her phone. "Seriously, Nik?" she demanded. "Do you know how expensive those are?"

That did it. Their craziness had reached maximum capacity. Klaus snapped, turning on his sister and bellowing, "So go compel one from another John!" At Rebekah's offended curse, he turned on the others. "And for the last time, all of you _get out of my room and stay the hell away from me!_"

But before anyone could leave, Elijah's skeptical frown and voice made them all pause. "Niklaus… you're shedding."

Oh, for fuck's sake.


	4. Chapter 3: Demands

_My, this story is just so much fun. This chapter will be a bit slower, with less humor, but I needed to set up a couple things for later. So, here we are._

_This is my last update for all stories until after Christmas/New Year's, depending how the holidays run out. But at the very least, there will be nothing else until the 26th._

_Have a sugary holiday!_

* * *

><p>Klaus had hardly noticed how he'd begun idly scratching his arm until Elijah pointed it out. Wildly, he looked down to his left side. When he turned his forearm slightly, bits of something grainy and flesh-toned caught the light. He brought the appendage closer to his face, his jaw tensing.<p>

"Nik, that's disgusting," said Rebekah disdainfully.

Before he could retort, Caroline whirled and clapped her hands commandingly. She put her cheerleader vocals to use. "Okay! Everyone not going crazy, let's grab a drink downstairs. You guys have drinks, right?" At Elijah's complying nod, she grinned. "Perfect." Her smile vanished when she looked over her shoulder at Klaus, apparently still disapproving of his making a potential orphan of some silly child in a Spiderman costume. "As for you, go shower. Rebekah's right—that _is_ gross."

Disbelief-turned-rage stained his words as he gestured to his toweled lower half. "Are you blind? I've already showered. How _dare_ you assume—"

"So shower again," she said, unaffected by his tone. "We'll be downstairs. And once we're all laughing at this perfect example of karmic justice, _maybe_ we'll try to help you. You know, if we decide you deserve it."

Klaus found it so difficult to believe that any immortal being could be so uptight over snapping a woman's neck. What had she expected? The shrill woman and her wailing child had attempted to thwart his rightful—if also shameful—pursuits of candy.

He glowered darkly at Caroline, but she only took that as acquiescence. Casting fascinated glances at him, everyone finally heeded his demands (really, her suggestion, but Klaus's dignity had suffered so much he imagined it was fair for him to assume he had some hand in their eventual willingness) and left his room.

Then Klaus was alone amongst candy wrappers glimmering in a silent tune that sang of his shame.

Klaus began to subconsciously scratch again; unaware of his actions until bits of hard, sand-like material began to accumulate under his nails. Disgusted and angry with himself, he threw the towel from his waist and stormed to the shower. Because he wanted to now, not because Caroline said to.

Yet the longer he stood in the heated spray, the less clean he felt. All the scrubbing in the world couldn't erase the complete and utter humiliation he'd faced in the hands of so-called enemies and, most importantly, the critical beauty that was Caroline. Just thinking of her translucent blue eyes in terms of the glittering rock candy he so craved in that moment drove him to scrub and scratch. His skin went raw then healed then raw then healed again.

Klaus almost wished to kill the woman he yearned for just so she couldn't remember him like that: panicked, desperate, and fighting the urge to shovel down handfuls of any confection he could get his Hybrid hands on.

He took his time in the shower, remaining even after the water had gone cold as snow. Eventually and grudgingly he turned off the spout and stepped out to towel himself off—again—before redressing. Sullen anger kept his mood low.

Prior to descending the stairs he double-checked to ensure his skin was smooth and intact.

Satisfied, he crept down with a predator's silence. Soon enough he found the four seated at an expansive dinner table fit for royalty. And his family had apparently taken advantage of its enormity given the three extra parties in his home now.

"What the hell is this?" he growled, narrowing his eyes at his siblings.

Rebekah pretended to examine her nails, so Elijah took it upon himself to answer. "Unfortunately, talking amongst the four of us led next to nowhere. So we invited reinforcements."

All could be well and good, Klaus supposed. It explained the witch at least—or former witch; whatever she was now. Bonnie Bennett's magical status seemed fluid as of late. But welcoming the doppelgänger and lesser Salvatore brother? This was more than merely assistance outreach.

His expression must have conveyed murderous intent, because Caroline leaned over the table. Her authoritative voice swelled and filled the room. "The good news is, we've all agreed to help."

"The bad news is it comes with stipulations," said Damon. His blue eyes were positively crackling with vengeful delight. Even worse, he was cheerfully sipping at Klaus's personal stash of 55 year-old Macallan Lalique.

Caroline shot the elder Salvatore a brief glare before she leaned back in her seat, primly pointing to an empty chair between Stefan and Elijah diagonally from her. "Sit," she ordered.

Klaus moved to, but before he did, he zipped over and swiped the scotch from Damon's grasp, glaring daggers at the man. Damon glared back, but kept his hand firm on the glass he had pilfered and took a defiant sip.

"If anybody deserves to be drunk for this debacle, it's me," declared Klaus. Then, because to hell with ceremony, he tipped the bottle neck to his lips and drank.

Once he'd taken his seat, still casting glares at everyone, Caroline spoke again. "We each have one demand. And yes, it is a demand. If you fail to meet any one of them, we've all agreed to just leave you to your fate." Her smile was sweet as pure sugarcane. "So I suggest you think long and hard before rejecting our offers."

Klaus scoffed. "We'll see."

For the first time, Elena spoke up. "I'll go first, since you took my candy." Klaus scowled at the reminder, and the look she gave him revealed she was just as unhappy as he. "You can't kill any more humans."

"Forget it." Klaus began to stand.

"_However,_" Elijah hurried to add, resting his hand upon Klaus's shoulder with steely insistence. "Given it is you, we've already agreed that Elena's request shall have to be limited to the time you hold this… affliction."

That made the most sense, if it could at all. Everyone knew that once he was cured, he would go right back to his typical ways. Though the request tested his patience, Klaus grudgingly returned to his seat. He took another swig and fantasized about murdering the damned doppelgänger the moment his venom returned. Perhaps then he could slaughter all her neighbors and pile them upon her doorstep. That would teach her to make unreasonable demands of the Original Hybrid.

Elena sighed, blissfully oblivious to his dark thoughts. "Yes. Until you're cured, or whatever. Until then, consider this rehab."

Lovely. "Next," said Klaus curtly.

Bonnie chose to take the reigns. Her jaw set as she assessed Klaus with cold indifference. "You also can't leave this house without an escort."

Klaus nearly retorted to tell her where she could go and where to shove it, but he quickly reconsidered. A slow smile danced across his lips as he delicately sipped the scotch once more. "All right," he said amiably, much to the visible surprise of his peers. He flashed his teeth. "_However,_ I only accept under the conditions that the escorts must be equal time and rotation amongst Rebekah, Elijah, and…" He paused for dramatic effect, his eyes roaming across the table until they came to rest on one person. "Caroline."

Nobody seemed surprised. Except, of course, the woman in question. "_No_ way," Caroline announced loudly. She stood, slamming her hands on the marble table and narrowing her deliciously blue eyes. "You're not creeping on me that easily."

"Oh, yes, he is, and you'll allow it," Rebekah snapped. Her vehemence startled the younger blonde, leaving Caroline with her mouth open as Rebekah threatened, "Or I'll happily take over Nik's revenge fantasy and kill your Lockwood boy myself."

"That was _not_ the deal," Elena protested.

Stefan closed his eyes in tired patience. "I thought we already agreed on only blackmailing Klaus."

"Thanks, mate," Klaus remarked with anger thinly veiled by over-exuberant cheer. That only earned him a slight eye roll from his former pal.

Rebekah also flashed her teeth, of which the fangs were already beginning to lengthen and point. "We also agreed to help my brother. Bastard that he is, if his requests are reasonable, I _will_ ensure he gets as much care as your precious doppelgänger."

"As will I," said Elijah softly. The deadliness of his quiescence was unmistakable, lending a notable chill to the atmosphere. Ice crystals practically formed around the air he breathed.

Klaus couldn't help but savor his small victory. Very likely he could have cajoled his way into having Caroline as his only escort, but that would be too obvious. He enjoyed his subtlety as much as his overt cruelty.

Pleased, he leaned back in his chair, resting an ankle on his opposite knee as he raised the bottle in salute. "Isn't it just lovely when family looks out for each other?"

"Shut up, Nik," muttered Rebekah.

With a loud groan, Caroline put her head on her arms. She mumbled an agreement. If anything, it only sweetened the deal to thick, stewing molasses for Klaus. He could almost look forward to the rest of the requests.

"Who's next?" he asked with brittle glee.

Stefan's was a little odd; no harming Jeremy. But once Damon's demand became no harming Elena, Klaus could see they had worked the agreement in tandem. Soft-hearted Elena would have begged for her brother's safety, but the Salvatore men wouldn't have wanted her harmed either. And this way she could make her own silly moral appeal as well.

When they worked together and weren't too busy trying to share the same girl, the brothers could actually come up with decent plans.

Rebekah was next, her eyes sharp as she surveyed her brother. "Stop taking my beauty products," she said disdainfully. "Keep what you already stole, but you never—and I mean _ever_—take my loofa again."

"Stupid name for a stupid product," Klaus muttered, but he didn't see the harm in agreeing to that.

As for his brother, his desire was a bitter pill to swallow. "All I ask is that we don't dagger what's left of the Mikaelson clan," said Elijah. "Seems a small price to pay for our aid, does it not, Niklaus?"

Klaus sneered, but agreed. For now, at least.

Caroline went last. Shortly after Klaus realized she had timed it that way on purpose.

Her spine straight and voice cool, she said, "Let Tyler back into Mystic Falls."

Klaus slammed the base of the half-empty bottle to the table for emphasis, only his careful touch keeping it from shattering upon impact. The sound was enough to make others wince all the same. "I'd rather die of this wretched affliction," he announced vehemently.

"Fine," shot back Caroline. She stood, shoving the chair away from herself. "See if I care when you gorge yourself to death on Hersheys!"

"Given that I can't die, I'm quite certain your petty threat gets you nowhere."

"Why don't you go rob some charities while you're at it. Or Toys for Tots! Since you insist on being such an _ass_ to the only people willing to help you!"

"You call allowing the lowly, groveling dog that attempted to kill me back in town an acceptable concession? Your help may as well be worthless."

Caroline's face flushed. Distantly, Klaus was irritated nobody intervened—apparently they were too fascinated by this dynamic—but most of him was riveted by her incandescent beauty, how she could be as sweet yet bitter as a Warhead, all while shouting at him. He would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy these spats at least a little.

"If you can't even do _me_ this one small thing in exchange for your well-being, then consider yourself out of options," said Caroline furiously.

Elijah did then cut in, resting a hand on Klaus's tense forearm as he leaned in and murmured so quietly that even supernatural ears aside from his brother's couldn't pick it up. "In reality, Niklaus, it is a small favor. And you have her company often enough with your earlier negotiation, don't you?"

No, he didn't. Not at all. But even as he fumed, Klaus saw the shutters in Caroline's eyes closing so tight that nearly all the exuberant light that was her spark went out. He growled and roughly shook his brother off, tilting the scotch back and finishing the bottle in a few fell swallows.

And then he stood, clenching his fists, his voice tight as he addressed Caroline. "He may _temporarily_ return. But should he take so much as a step toward me with murderous intent, I will remove his still-beating heart before your very eyes."

She didn't budge, watching him with careful suspicion. "Define temporarily."

"Until I am cured," he retorted.

Caroline shook her head, blonde curls swaying. "Minimum one year. You know we work fast."

"One _week_."

"Don't test me," she said.

Tension coiled the muscles in his back. With swiftness that made others jump in his periphery, Klaus spun and slammed the bottle against the table, sending glass spraying. The girls cried out and covered their faces, while the men both shouted and vacated the area. But Caroline remained in her place, as did Klaus, and they matched heated stare for stare.

"One year," Klaus finally agreed. Or, well, he assumed he agreed. He meant to, but his vision was so tinted with red that he almost thought he had snapped and slaughtered everyone in the room.

Only then did Caroline relax. "Thank you."

He refused to acknowledge her thanks. Instead opting to jostle Elijah bodily when his brother attempted to speak to him, Klaus stalked out of the kitchen and toward the back of the house. He needed distance from these people and their unreasonable demands.

His sister apparently chose to remain blind to this need, because she was hot on his heels. "Wonderful job, Nik. We ask a few minor favors and you do your best to alienate the only person _not_ family who gives a damn about you," she scolded.

Klaus barked out a short, derisive laugh. "Minor? Your definition of the word is skewed, dear sister."

"Yes, how _dare_ we ask you not to be a complete arse until we find some sort of cure," said Rebekah sardonically. "My apologies for being so selfish."

"At least you had the sensibility to be fair," Klaus snapped, turning on his heel so quickly that she had to screech to a halt to avoid colliding with him. "Allowing that _dog_ back here? He'll start scheming in no time. And so long as I'm confined to this house, and I continue to have these infernal cravings, you all expect me to roll over and show my belly for him to tear apart!"

Rebekah put her hands on her hips, visibly exasperated. "Do you really think we'd let him actually kill you?"

Klaus narrowed his eyes shrewdly at his sister. "Possibly."

She sighed and shrugged. "We're going to help. Okay? Even the little witchy girl said she might have some way to find out what sort of curse you're under."

He was doubtful thanks to her recent confusion when it came to magic, but Klaus chose not to pick that particular fight. "And the Lockwood idiot?"

His sister tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder, flashing a smile that showed off her brilliant teeth. "Like I said. I'll take on your job if I must. Can't say I wouldn't enjoy the hunt at least a little."

Klaus at last cracked a small smirk. Traitor though she could be, it was always a delight to have Rebekah on his side when her bloodthirst ran high. And really, this could easily work to his advantage.

If only the crusty bits of his damned flesh would quit flaking off. Annoyed, Klaus scratched his cheek. At the same time, Elijah chose that moment to check in on them—alone, so he'd presumably played good, polite host and showed the unwelcome intruders out—and his mannerisms were much calmer than Klaus felt the situation deserved.

"I showed our guests the door and Niklaus, you're shedding again."

"I know," he snapped irritably, choosing to ignore Rebekah as she wrinkled her nose in revulsion.

But she said, "For god's sake, Nik, just use some of my lotion. I'll bend the deal for you to stop being disgusting."

Scratching at his shoulder beneath his sleeve, Klaus snarled, "If I could help it, I would!" But he couldn't quell the humiliated fury that promised to drown him when the tiny pitter-patter of crusty bits hit the hardwood floor. It sounded much like sand being slowly poured from a closed fist.

Still, neither he nor Rebekah expected Elijah to crouch to the floor and observe the shedding thoughtfully. Then, to the siblings' equal horror, the eldest Mikaelson licked his finger, swiped up the shedding, and popped it in his mouth.

Rebekah immediately turned and began gagging. Klaus, fearing his brother had also succumbed to madness, shouted, "What the bloody hell is wrong with you?"

Calmly straightening himself to his feet, Elijah ran his tongue over his teeth. His gaze turned inward, his brow perplexed.

"It's sugar," he announced.

Klaus stopped scratching.


End file.
